By Prince Gora
Yesterday I had an experience that made me pause, breathe and reflect on myself a bit deeper than I usually do. Traffic was hellish between 1700hrs and 1800hrs on my way home from the CBD and the kombi (minibus) I had boarded ended up taking an unfamiliar detour to beat the congestion. As a precaution, I had to tell the driver, whom I was fortunately sitting next to, my destination. Three times, he assured me that he would make sure I got to my stop safely and on time.
But when we finally got to my hood, to my horror, I realized that the unfamiliar route had betrayed me and we had long passed my stop. When I inquired, the driver stopped the kombi and said the conductor* would refund me enough for a ride back. When I engaged the conductor, though, he only handed me a third of what I needed, and my attempts to protest merely resulted in him pocketing the coins before signaling the driver to speed off, leaving me stranded. There was nothing else to do but lick my wounds and move on.
I expected to feel bitter and think of every curse word that was ever invented. Instead, I simply understood that it was me who wanted to get home, accepted my fate and moved on. The reaction suprised even me and I obviously had to self introspect. How did I get here?
*Conductors are very common in Zimbabwe and assist the driver in boarding passengers, collecting fares, negotiating with the police and and handling any other issues that may arise while traveling.
P.S: The article was updated on August 5th, 2025.
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